Cursed
by JediMagnet09
Summary: The two oldest Winchesters bring trouble down on their youngest when they tick off the wrong witch during a hunt.  Can Dean save his brother?  And will what he discovers during the rescue tear him and his family apart?
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys! Here's a fresh story for you! Um, Dean is about 12 in this chapter, Sam 7 or 8. I think that's all you need to know...

This is just a bit of a prologue, so its short. :)

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><p>"Come in, come in! You, children, you must hear what I have to tell you!"<p>

Dean gave the fortune teller a shrewd look, about to refuse, but Sammy looked interested and turned his puppy dog eyes on his big brother.

"Please, Dean! It could be fun!"

_I doubt it. Fortune teller's are weird._

"Why don't we go over to the games and try to win a stuffed animal for you, huh, Sammy?" Dean tried.

"Oh, come on, Dean! Please!" his little brother begged.

Dean opened his mouth to refuse, but paused, then sighed. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't say no to Sammy.

"Oh, alright."

Dean let his little brother drag him into the fortune teller's tent, sitting down on a cushion on the floor. Call him paranoid, but he grabbed Sammy and pulled him down onto the same cushion. It's not as if they wouldn't fit. Sammy was tiny.

The fortune teller began, her gaze locking on the oldest of the two children before her.

"There will come a day when you will learn things about your brother that will change you, change you both, forever."

Dean's brow furrowed at that.

_What kind of fortune teller is this old hag? She isn't even trying to look into that ball of hers. _

He would never admit it, but she kinda creeped him out, especially with the way she was staring at him, all wide-eyed and serious.

Not too mention she was talking about his brother.

"Be warned. Your father isn't all he seems, either."

Dean openly rolled his eyes at that. "Yeah, right."

The fortune teller didn't seem fazed by his disbelief. "The day will come when you will truly start to doubt your father. And soon after, out of desperation, you will come to me. Your baby brother will be on the verge of death and you will be afraid."

Dean's eyes flashed with anger, all amusement gone at the mention of his brother and death in the same sentence, and he grabbed Sammy's hand, standing up. "I think we're done, thanks."

Sam waited till they were out of the tent, then spoke, his voice shaking.

"Dean, what did she mean by that? I am gonna die?" Sammy asked, sounding frightened, unconsciously moving closer to his big brother.

Dean tightened his hold on his sibling at the thought. "No. No, you'll be fine, Sammy. She's just crazy. Let's go get some cotton-candy, okay?"

Brightening at the idea of food, the two brothers let the strange fortune teller's warnings slip out of their minds.

...

Unnoticed by the two Winchesters, the fortune teller stood at the door of her tent, watching them walk away.

"Till we meet again, Dean Winchester."


	2. Chapter 2

Okie dokie (ha, show reference), here is the next chapter. Um, Sam has been at Stanford for about two years now. We've jumped quite a bit. :) Oh and no Jess in this story. Sorry!

Another short chapter. Promise they'll get longer! :)

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><p>The witch was cornered, but she wasn't afraid.<p>

She was still snapping at them, swearing and cursing, furious. "How _dare_ you. My sister is _dead_ because of you."

Dean felt guilty about that. It was a casualty that they hadn't wanted or expected.

"How are you any better than the monsters you hunt, hmm, when you take down innocents? She meant the world to me and now she's gone because of you!" she continued.

Dean could relate with the sentiment, though it killed him to admit it even to himself. Even the thought of his little brother burned these days.

_Dang, kiddo, I miss you so much. Why'd you have to take off, huh? _

Dean forced his mind away from Sam and focused once more on the witch.

The witch suddenly froze, a strange, unsettling calm falling over her. She regarded her foes with a cold amusement.

"You went after my family, hunters. I suppose it's only appropriate for me to go after yours. You'll regret this day."

Before either of them could react, she snapped her fingers, snarling two unfamiliar words and _disappeared. _

A flash of realization had panic rushing through the older brother's veins. _Sammy!_

Dean whipped his phone out, flipping it open and dialing a number he would never forget, no matter how long it had been since he dialed it.

A sleep, rather hoarse, "'ello?" sounded through the phone.

Dean's heart panged with regret and pain at the sound of his absent brother's voice.

"Sammy, it's Dean. You have to get out of there NOW!" He didn't even bother to hide his frantic fear.

"Dean?" Sam still sounded half-asleep, confused.

"W-"

The youngest Winchester cut off with a gasp.

"Sam? SAMMY! SAM!"

The phone picked up distant grunting, the sound of something smashing, a quick cry of pain, then silence.

"SAMMY!"

"Too late, hunter."

Dean's heart dropped to his toes.

"Your brother and I are going to have some fun. Can you reach him before I kill him? I do love a good game. The race is on."

An almost stereotypical cackle, then the line went dead.

...

It was a four hour drive.

Dean was determined to make it in three or less.

His father followed in his large truck. John hadn't even bothered to question his son's movements, simply following him to the cars and heading towards Palo Alto

Frantic thoughts whirled around in Dean's head, exacerbating an already severe stress headache, but Dean couldn't find it in him to try to calm himself.

_Sammy._

_Oh gosh, Sammy._

_What is she doing to you?_

_Hours. She'll have you for hours, alone. _

_Defenseless._

_I'm so sorry. _

_Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry!_

_Please be okay, Sammy. Please be okay._

_What if she-_

_No._

_What if-_

_NO!_

A fierce determination suddenly broke through the fear.

_I'll save you, Sammy._

_I'll fix this. _

_The witch won't have you for long._

_And she'll wish she'd never touched you by the time I'm done with her._

_I'm coming._


	3. Chapter 3

Hey guys! Sorry I didn't get to post this last night. I got caught up in a big assignment I was working on and I just didn't have time! So here's the next chapter!

Thanks for all the reviews! :)

So, the chapter is short again. I have like a million major projects due this week, so I just don't have time to write much. But I'm hoping this will tide you over till I get time to write longer sections. :)

Thanks for your patience! :)

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><p>Dean barely took the time to close the car door as they reached Sam's dorm. He was sprinting for the stairs in seconds, mind chanting one name over and over.<p>

_Sam. Sam. Come on. Sam. _

He was vaguely aware of his dad behind him.

Dean skidded to a halt outside Sam's door. Glancing at John, who nodded, Dean tested the door knob.

It was unlocked.

Dean drew his gun, hesitantly opening the door and moving inside.

Both father and son froze at the sight that met their eyes.

The witch was sitting on Sam's bed, Sam's head in her lap.

She was stroking his blood-matted hair, his eyes closed, his whole form limp and covered in blood.

The witch glanced up at them, a cruel smile spreading on her face.

Neither dared to move.

Dean tried not to focus on the blood that had pooled underneath his baby brother, staining his clothing and bed. His quick eyes found the source almost immediately, though. Deep gashes in his chest and back, still bleeding, though sluggishly.

"Sammy." Dean called softly.

Sam didn't even twitch, completely unresponsive to everything around him.

_Oh gosh. He's barely breathing. He kinda looks...No! What the heck did she do to him?_

The witch raised an eyebrow. "Nothing smart to say now, hmm? What should I do to the beloved youngest of your torn family? My sister suffered a very horrible death because of _you_ two, how should I repay you? I don't think losing him to death is enough. Perhaps something more painful then?" she mused. "What if I take away his precious mind, the intelligence he treasures and relies on? The sanity that he isn't sure he truly has?"

"What are you talking about?" Dean growled, finally finding his voice.

"He is trapped in his own mind. Turned upside down, nothing in it's right place. Given long enough, there's no way he will maintain his sanity, if he even manages to escape. My sister is avenged, Winchesters."

She laughed long and hard, then snapped her fingers and was gone.

Dean didn't hesitate, despite his father's sharp one word warning, "_Dean!_"

He dropped to his knees beside his baby brother, quickly checking vital signs.

He knew he was panicking, his desperation and horror building in his chest till he couldn't breathe, but he also couldn't find it in him to care.

"Sam. Sammy. Answer me, kiddo! ANSWER ME!"

He grabbed Sam, pulling his limp sibling into his arms, ignoring the blood, ignoring everything but his unresponsive little brother.

"Sammy. Sammy, please. Wake up."


	4. Chapter 4

I had some extra time so I decided to write this chapter. We'll be getting into the_ really_ good stuff next chapter. I hope you all enjoy and thanks for the wonderful reviews! :)

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><p>It was quite possibly the longest week of Dean's life.<p>

Sam was completely unresponsive, but a few basic bodily functions seemed to still be in working order.

As he had done every day for the last week, Dean gently support Sam's head with one hand, pressing a glass to his lips with the other. He had taken the time to go shopping and get this shake crap that was supposed to have all the nutrients you needed. Since he couldn't picture trying to get Sam to chew or something, this was what he settled on. Thankfully, Sam still swallowed normally.

"There you go, Sammy. Bet this stuff tastes like crap, huh? I'll make you a deal. You wake up and I'll never make you have any of these again."

Dean had been keeping up a steady chatter for a week now, trying to cover up the maddening silence.

He was determinedly not thinking about the absence of the one man who should have been there.

In the past, it had always been Sam and John who went at it. The two clashed like they hated each other, had since Sam was little.

This time, it had been Dean and John who clashed and it was the worst fight Dean could remember having with his father.

_Always something to hunt, right dad? Never enough time for us. Fine. Be that way. Not like you were ever there for us before. I raised Sam. I cared for him before, I can care for him now._

The words Dean had yelled at his father swam around in his head.

_"You're __**leaving?**__ Dad, the stupid witch can wait! We have to help Sam. Killing her isn't going to break the spell. We have to save Sam!" _

He had been shocked by how uncaring John had seemed. It's not like he hadn't noticed it before, noticed that John played favorites, but this was to a whole new extreme.

_Is dad really that angry at Sam for leaving, that he would desert his helpless, vulnerable youngest for yet another hunt, yet another creature to get revenge on?_

His father's apathy had driven Dean into a frenzy that had nearly come to blows.

Not like he was thinking about it or anything.

Absently, Dean ran his fingers through Sam's hair, a habit from when they were young and toddler Sam couldn't or wouldn't sleep, sighing deeply, a single tear slipping down his cheek.

He wasn't sure who exactly it was for.

Sam or John.

Finally, Dean laid down beside Sam, his own exhaustion from the long week catching up with him.

He was asleep in moments.

...

_"The day will come when you will truly start to doubt your father. And soon after, out of desperation, you will come to me. Your baby brother will be on the verge of death and you will be afraid."_

_Dean's eyes flashed with anger, all amusement gone at the mention of his brother and death in the same sentence, and he grabbed Sammy's hand, standing up. "I think we're done, thanks."_

_Sam waited till they were out of the tent, then spoke, his voice shaking. _

_"Dean, what did she mean by that? I am gonna die?" Sammy asked, sounding frightened, unconsciously moving closer to his big brother._

_Dean tightened his hold on his sibling at the thought. "No. No, you'll be fine, Sammy. She's just crazy."_

...

Dean burst up, eyes wide, suddenly awake.

_What the heck?_

He hadn't thought about that day at the fair in years.

_It couldn't be...How could she know...? _

But of all people, Dean knew that witches, even the ones masquerading as fortune tellers, should be taken seriously.

Obviously, they had power.

Dean's brows furrowed.

_No way. Should I? _

_Am I desperate enough? _

_How can I trust her?_

_Do I have any choice?_

...

Dean's face was grim as he gently gathered his brother in his arms, grunting as he lifted his not-so-little brother, stumbling to the Impala.

Laying his brother down in the backseat, Dean covered him with blankets, stuffed pillows under his head, tried to make his baby brother as comfortable as possible, then shut the door.

He was driving out of the motel parking lot a moment later.

_I must be nuts. _

...

There wasn't much of a chance that she would be in the same place, but Dean didn't really know where else to start.

For all he knew, the old fortune teller could be dead and he could just be taking a nice little, silent road trip with his comatose brother.

For hours, these doubts bounced around in his head till Dean felt so ridiculous that he almost turned around.

So, understandably, he was shocked to roll into town and see a large fair in the same place as it had been when he was 12.

_No way._

...

Sometimes Dean amazed himself.

If it had been under different circumstances, he would have been proud of his genius.

As it was, it just pained him.

He had gotten a wheelchair from the front kiosk at the fair and managed to get Sam into it, surrounding him with enough blankets to keeping him mostly sitting up.

Luckily, the cool sea air kept the blankets from looking out of place.

If Dean hadn't known better, he would have said Sammy was just sleeping.

Ignoring the stares of the children and even some parents, Dean pushed Sam through the fair, looking for any sign of the fortune teller.

"Dean Winchester. I have been waiting for you a long time."

Dean turned and there she was.

The tent was in the same place, the fortune teller not looking any older now than she had then (though she had looked plenty old enough before, in Dean's opinion). She was standing outside the tent, watching him solemnly.

She sighed deeply as her eyes locked on Sam.

"Come in. I have everything set up for you. We need to talk."

...

Sometimes Dean wondered how he managed to get himself into things like this.

Sam was lying down on a cot the fortune teller had set up in a back portion of the tent, cut off from the rest of it.

She had a cushion set up next to the cot for Dean, as if aware that Dean wouldn't leave his brother's side.

She sat on a pile of cushions across from him.

"I can help you and your brother, Dean."

Dean watched her, not even in the mood to make a joke. "How?"

"The witch locked Sam in his own mind. I can send you into his mind. If you can put everything back in the right place, then Sam should be okay. It won't be easy, there will be complications." the witch chuckled. "You of all people know that Sam is complicated. His mind is going to reflect that."

Dean's brow furrowed in thought, as he contemplated what the fortune teller had told him so far.

"I must warn you, though, Dean. You will learn secrets that may tear you, and your family, apart. It could destroy you all. If you let it."

Dean pursed his lips, unhappy at the idea that things could get worse, but determined that he wouldn't let it happen. "I'll be careful, but it's not going to stop me. I won't leave him like this. I will do anything, _risk_ anything, to save Sam."

The fortune teller chuckled again, sadly this time. "I know."

She nodded then, taking a deep breath. "If you're sure, they lay back." Dean did so. "Close your eyes and try to relax."

Dean inwardly rolled his eyes. _Right. Relax. _

"Okay. Knowing Sam, he will be there to guide you, help you, when you reach your destination. Trust him, but be careful nonetheless. Good luck. Start counting back from ten."

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

_Four..._

_Five..._

_...Six..._

_...Seven..._

_...eight..._

_...nine..._

Dean fell.


	5. Chapter 5

Hey guys! We're finally getting into Sam's mind! This should be interesting. :)

I hope you enjoy and thanks for all the reviews! :)

I have a major paper due tonight, so unfortunately this is a small chapter, but the rest will be longer (for the most part).

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><p>When Dean came back to himself, he was standing in a long hallway, lined with doors.<p>

He could already tell it was Sam's mind. The doors were spaced evenly apart (_little OCD freak)_ and everything was clean and orderly.

Suddenly, a strangely familiar, young voice called out to him.

"DEAN!"

He turned just in time to catch an armful of six year old Sam.

_What the heck?_

He had seen this Sam in years. He kinda missed the kid at this age. So easy to take care of, so easy to please.

So innocent.

It took the older brother only a second to realize the six-year old version of his brother was crying, clutching to him desperately.

Dean immediately started rubbing his back, shushing him. "Hey. Hey, you're okay." _I hope._ "You're okay."

"I knew you'd come." Sam managed as his sobs calmed.

"What's wrong?" Dean hoped the kid could give him some sense of direction, where he was supposed to go and what he was supposed to do.

"Things are really scary here. Everything is messed up! We're trapped in places we shouldn't be."

As Sam wriggled out of his arms, Dean forced the puzzled look off his face.

_We?_

Young Sam grabbed his hand, tugging on it.

"I'll show you where you need to go. Please help!"

"Of course, I'm gonna help, Sammy. Where do we need to go?"

Sam pulled him down the hallway, bypassing six doors before stopping in front of the seventh. He went up on his tiptoes, but still couldn't reach the high doorknob.

Dean grinned at that (_it's been awhile since I've been taller than sasquatch)_, and opened it.

Stepping through, Dean's eyebrows rose at what was laid out before him.

A new hallway, full of doors. Each door had a large screen on it, different scenes flashing across them.

"This is our hall of memories." young Sam said. He pulled Dean forward, pointing out certain doors as they went.

"See, those are my earliest memories, that's why all the images are blurry. And those are my memories of elementary school. Those are the times you took me shooting."

_At least Sam hasn't lost his ability to talk._ Dean thought, amused.

That's when they passed _the_ door.

Dean stopped, ignoring Sam pulling on his hand. "What's this door, Sammy?"

The door was faded and worn, the screen cracked, nothing flashing across the screen. The whole area seemed darker, shadowed.

Chills shot down Dean's spine.

"Sammy? What door is this?" he repeated when Sam didn't answer.

The young Sam's sigh sounded just like the older one's did.

"Memories I don't want. Things I've locked away. Things that were...traumatizing."

Dean blinked. _That's a big word for a little kid. And what the heck? How bad could it be? Sure there've been some pretty bad hunts, but...dang._

Dean's shoulders set and he took a step towards the door.

Young Sam gave a small gasp. "You can't see those, Dean. Please!" he begged, digging his heels into the floor in a useless attempt to slow him down.

Dean scooped Sam up into his arms and strode over to the door.

Young Sam buried his face in Dean's shoulder as Dean opened the door and stepped inside.

_"Dean __**please.**_You can't see this!_ Y-you __**can't**__ know!"_

The door slammed closed behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

Here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoy it. Yes, I'm evil and I love cliffhangers (writing them, not reading them, funnily enough).

Thanks for all the reviews!

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><p>The room was pitch black, the only source of light from the door that was illuminated very dimly behind him.<p>

_Okay...there's nothing here._

A portion of the room suddenly lit up and Dean felt his heart drop as he recognized the scene.

John and Sam, squaring off for that last fight that would tear their small family apart. Standing toe to toe, glaring up at each other's faces.

He was standing in the background, watching.

Their dad delivered his _stupid_ ultimatum, yelling, "You step out that door, don't you _ever_ come back!"

Sam hesitated, glanced at memory-Dean, who was expressionless.

Real-Dean wasn't sure if it was because it was Sam's memory or if he had just been too distracted during the real fight, but the pain, the _heartbreak_ on Sam's face seemed so _visible_ now.

Finally, memory-Sam turned and walked into the dark.

Six year old Sam, still in Dean's arms, his face buried in Dean's shoulder, gave a soft whimpering sob that had Dean's insides twisting painfully.

Clearly he had underestimated the pain leaving brought to Sam.

_He must have known I had his back though...right?_

A nasty voice in the back of Dean's mind just had to speak up at that.

_How would he? You didn't say anything. Look at his face. Does that look like someone who knows he is loved and wanted?_

The lit up portion went dark for a moment, then another section suddenly lit up.

Dean didn't recognize this memory.

_Hmm. Must not have been there._

It bothered him to think that in the times Dean had been working, at school, or hunting, Sam could have been suffering.

Memory-Sam, probably 12 years old, was standing before their father, looking worried and embarrassed.

Dean's brow furrowed, his sharp eyes, adept at reading his baby brother, caught the dark fear in memory-Sam's gaze that he was trying so hard not to show on his face.

"You couldn't have possibly acted any worse during this hunt, Samuel! Crap, you almost got Dean killed! Didn't you listen to a single thing I taught you? Dean taught you? You stupid-" and the yelling just went on and on.

Dean frowned. John could be harsh, but this was ridiculous.

Memories of this hunt flashed across Dean's mind. Yeah, he had gotten hurt, but it hadn't been Sam's fault at all. Just chance. It happened.

_Did Dad always talk to Sam like this when I wasn't there?_

That's when their dad raised his arm and _backhanded_ Sam across the face, _hard._

Dean froze, his whole body going stiff, jaw dropping in shock.

_No..._

The light switched to another portion and John was yelling at Sam once more, but for something else. Sam was probably nine this time. John lashed out again, hitting him even harder than he had in the other memory, actually physically knocking Sam to the ground.

The memories started to flash faster now, all of John hitting Sam over and over, screaming at Sam, arguing with Sam, ignoring Sam, berating Sam. The hitting was hard and violent.

Dean couldn't _believe_ what he was seeing.

_How could I have missed this? Oh gosh._

_Sam..._

Perhaps the worst part was the acceptance on Sam's face.

_He isn't fighting. Why isn't he fighting? _

That wasn't like the Sam Dean knew at all.

_Please dad. Tell me you didn't._

Finally, Dean couldn't take anymore.

The memories seemed to be never-ending, the room flashing over and over with scene after scene of horrible abuse.

A tear fell, tracing its way down his cheek.

_How could I have let this happen?_

Twisting around, he grabbed the door handle and wrenched it open, slamming it shut behind him. He leaned against it, breathing hard, setting Sam down.

Six year old Sam sank to the floor, tears streaking down his face.

_Oh Sammy. _

_I'm so sorry._


	7. Chapter 7

Thanks for all the reviews, guys! I'm glad you're enjoying the story! Here's the next chapter!

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><p>Dean's mind was spinning.<p>

_How did I miss this? _

_What else did da- __**John**__ do?_

_Oh gosh. _

_How scarred is Sam?_

_Sammy, I'm so sorry. _

After a moment, Dean glanced at the young Sam who was his guide. "Why didn't you tell me?" he asked hoarsely.

Sam looked at him a second, then gave a small sigh, full of sorrow and pain. "Why don't you ask him?" he gestured to the side. "He's supposed to be in the room, but I told you that things are messed up in here."

Dean looked in the direction he had gestured in, then froze. Another Sam, slightly older than the one before him, was curled up on the floor in a little niche near him, shaking and bloody. His eyes were fearful, staring off at nothing, not acknowledging either of them.

Dean moved cautiously forward, kneeling next to the thirteen year old Sam. "Sammy?" he prompted softly.

Slowly, the other Sam looked at him.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Dean asked, his voice choking on the last few words.

Sam just stared at him blankly for a moment, eyes swimming with terror and agony, blinkly hazily.

_What kind of abuse must Sam have suffered to get injuries like __**this?**_

Rarely had he seem Sam look so bad.

_What does Sam even think about all this? Does he think that I knew? Does he blame me for not protecting him? Gosh, does he think...does he think that he deserves it? Does he blame himself? Does Sammy even really __**trust**__ me to protect him?_

Dean hated being so unsure.

It was silent long enough that Dean decided to ease the kid a little.

_I failed him before. I won't now. I refuse._

Tearing a piece of his shirt off the bottom, Dean started to very gently dab at some of the bleeding wounds.

Sam winced in pain, but didn't respond otherwise, just stared at Dean blankly while he worked. Finally, a little life seemed to bleed into Sam's eyes. Voice, hoarse, raw, and very soft, he spoke. "How could I tell my hero that I'm worthless?"

The question felt like a stab to the heart to the older brother, wondering where the heck _that_ came from, when he realized that Sam was answering his earlier question.

_Oh gosh._

"I deserved it all. It's my fault. I'm...I'm w-weak and useless. Daddy always said that I earned 'em, that they were for my own good. You were the perfect son and I was useless. I never did anything right."

Sam's shoulders shook as he fought sobs.

"You always made an excuse for dad, no matter how long he left us, how many times he forgot us. Every time you found a bruise you believed the lame excuses I came up with. D-dad didn't w-want to hur tyou, so we staged the fights we had, j-just so you wouldn't be suspicious. H-he wasn't ready t-to get rid of m-me y-yet, so you couldn't know, that's what he said. And-and...y-you _worship_ dad. I couldn't destroy himf or you. I wouldn't. And...I was...a-afraid. I was afraid that you knew, but you didn't care. That if you did know, you'd choose dad. How could you not? I'm worthless. And now you know..."

Sam did let out a sob then.

"No. No, Sammy. I didn't know. I promise, I didn't know. I never would have let dad do this if I knew. It's not your fault. Crap, kiddo, it's not your fault. You didn't deserve it."

None of this was getting through his kid brother, Dean could tell. The kid wouldn't look him in the eyes, but he did finally look up at Dean's face a little.

The older brother took slight comfort from that fact. He hoped that someday he'd be able to get that beaten, hopeless look out of Sam's eyes.

After a moment of silence, the thirteen year old Sam spoke again.

"You'd better go. Please. Please help us get out. I just...I want to just...please. I need to hide. I don't want to be out here."

Dean frowned. "Why?"

"_He_ might find me."

Dean's frown deepened. "Who? Dad?"

"No. The hunter. If he knew I was out here...my weakness draws him to me. He'd kill me. He hunts everything weak. Usually, he's locked away just like me, in his own room, guarded by other parts of me, but...things are all wrong."

Dean hesitated. "You'll be okay?"

The Sam before him nodded, managing a small quirk of his lips. "Yeah."

Dean stood, turning to see the younger Sam waiting for him. He was led to another doorway, this one with no screen.

He gave one last glance to the abused Sam he was leaving behind (_not permanently_, he had to keep telling himself, _just long enough that I can fix this mess_). Curled, small, and bleeding again, the kid looked so vulnerable and helpless.

Swallowing back his pain, sorrow, and anger at _John_, Dean turned once more and faced the new door. Pulling it open, Dean stiffened as he registered what this next room held.

Screens. Hundreds and hundreds of them, lining the walls.

Each held only one image. Some were blank.

The images had Dean's stomach rebelling, forcing him to bury the need to vomit.

Each image was of a horrific death. Bloody, overwhelmingly so. Soft screams echoed through the room, originating from the screens.

Six year old Sam was looking down at the floor, refusing to look at the screens.

"Sam, what is this?" Dean asked, horrified. Some of the faces looked vaguely familiar to him, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen them before.

Another voice reached his ears and Dean turned in surprise.

The new Sam was probably about 16. The darkness, sadness, horror, in his eyes was overwhelming, aging him, making him look so much older than his sixteen years.

The new Sam sighed, sounding pained when he finally spoke. "These are the faces and deaths of every person I've failed to save since I learned about the supernatural. Some of them are people who will never be the same. They might have survived, but they lost everything. Any sense of security they once had. Most of the clearer pictures or the ones with pictures of death are from when I was a teenager and saw more of the hunts, was more involved. The blank ones are the ones that haven't happened yet, but that I know will. I mean...once a failure always a failure, right?"

Dean was stunned. "Baby brother, you really have to learn to let things go. I just can't believe that...tha tyou actually remember the faces of _every single_ one of the people who died on hunts we've been on. Crap, kiddo, some of these hunts are ones you were too young to do anything more than research or maybe not even that! These aren't your fault. Don't you remember and store the people we save too? What about them?"

Sam shrugged. "They're probably here somewhere."

Dean frowned, running a hand through his hair.

He didn't even know where to start.

_How can I ever fix all this?_


	8. Chapter 8

Hey guys! Taking a break from homework and posting this next chapter! If I get done early enough I'll post another one! Hope you enjoy and thanks for all the reviews!

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><p>"This way."<p>

6 year old Sam walked over to another door, which Dean quickly opened.

The young Sam before him froze as yet _another_ Sam loomed up.

This Sam was the oldest so far. 21 or 22, built well and in better shape than Dean had ever seen him in. He held a machete in each hand.

Dean's eyes were wide as he took all this in.

A large furry creature leapt at the hunter before him.

This older Sam turned, faced it head on, showing no fear or hesitation in his movements.

The fight was violent and it was extremely disturbing for Dean to see his baby brother, his sensitive, kind sibling, so cold and hard.

"This is the hunter part of me that the other one was talking about. The warrior. The aprt that no matter how hard I tried I couldn't stop dad from creating. Usually my own nature holds him back, there's a specific place that he's hidden away, but...what usually holds him back is trapped. He attacks anyone he comes across, even parts of my own mind that he sees as weak. Don't let him see you."

The two of them began to sneak around the violence.

_Holy crap._

_As much as I wish our childhood had been easier...as much as I used to wish that Sam would just buck up and train and not fight with dad (not like that's what was going on at all, dang it), this is so much worse. _

A small cry from the young Sam before him had Dean snapping back to the present.

_Oh no._

The hunter had young Sam cornered, bearing down on him with the two machetes, coated red with the werewolf's blood.

Dean charged forward, pushing the hunter back and twisting one of the machetes away from him.

_Crap. __**So**__ not what I wanted to be doing._

Emotionless, the hunter faced off with the new threat, seemingly unfazed by the loss of his second machete.

He made the first move, swinging at Dean, who leapt back to avoid the blade.

_What happens if I die in here?_

The question flitted through Dean's mind before he quickly pushed it away.

_Let's not find out. _

The hunter took another swing at Dean and the older Winchester was barely fast enough to avoid it.

He couldn't help but be surprised by the ruthlessness with which this Sam fought. The focus he had, the skill he presented. It was so not _Sam._ Sam was talented, but he was usually more subtle than this.

_Perhaps because he's afraid to go all out when __**this**__ is what it does to him._

Dean grunted as the hunter suddenly slammed him into the wall behind him, trying to ignore the cry of the younger Sam at the move.

Meeting the eyes of his attacker, his little brother, Dean couldn't help the shiver that moved down his spine. There was a cold blankess, a terrible lack of compassion, _humanity_, in Sam's eyes.

_Is this really what hunting does to Sam? Is this just what he's __**afraid**__ it will do?_

He had to wonder, though...

_Does this Sam even know who he's fighting?_

Finally, with one swift move, Dean smashed the handle of his machete into Sam's head with a wince.

_Sorry, Sammy, but you started it. _

The young Sam ran to him, wrapping his arms around Dean's legs, fighting tears. "Are you okay?" Sam was frantic and upset.

"Yeah. I'm okay, Sammy. Let's get out of here, shall we?" Dean dropped the machete, ruffling Sam's hair comfortingly.

Sam led him to yet another door, letting Dean open it.

Dean's jaw dropped at the amazing sight that opened up before him.

_Dang._

Huge shelves that seemed to stretch on forever, numberless, books galore filling each of them.

"What is _this?_" Dean had to ask.

A familiar snort had Dean looking up.

A new Sam, probably 21 or so, appeared from behind a shelf, face buried in a book.

"_This _is called a _library_, Dean."

And kept walking.

Dean rolled his eyes.

_Well, that's a part of Sam I know well._

The young Sam was grinning at him. "This is what I know. The information from the hunts we've been on, from my classes in elementary, grade school, junior high, high school, and college. Whatever knowledge I have ever gained is store here."

Dean's eyes were wide as he stared at the child.

"Seriously? This is what you _know_? No wonder you get headaches, little brother. Your head is way too full."

Sammy laughed. "Hey, it's saved you more than once."

Dean smiled. "Yeah. Yeah, I suppose it has."

_This isn't so bad. Maybe Sam isn't totally scarred and miserable._

_Maybe I have a chance to fix this._


	9. Chapter 9

Hey guys! Another break, another chapter! Just on a roll today I guess. :)

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><p>The young Sam led him through the library to another door, but then hesitated.<p>

"What's wrong?" Dean asked, concerned.

"I...um...that's the door we need to go through, but..."

"But what?" Dean asked gently, seeing his younger brother's struggle.

Sam hesitated again. "My phobias, the things that are scare me, are stored in there." He managed, very softly.

Dean couldn't help but be surprised at that. He hadn't been aware Sam _had_ any phobias. He frowned.

_Worried he couldn't trust me with it? _

"What phobias?"

"I-I can't go in. B-but you can't go forward without me..." Sammy looked torn, growing panic on his face.

Dean looked down at him a moment, then knelt down, gently laying a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Trust me, Sammy. I'll protect you. I'll get you through it. We just have to get passed the room."

_Please Sammy. Please trust me. _

Finally, Sam looked up at him and nodded.

Dean offered him a small smile, then pulled the child into his arms, standing and reaching for the door knob.

He felt Sam's arms tighten around him as he opened the door and stepped inside. To his alarm, the door disappeared behind him, blocking the way out.

Frowning, Dean took another step forward.

Suddenly, John's voice echoed through the room, loud and powerful, clearly furious. It was a tone that Dean had never heard John take wtih them, yet after his experience in the room of memories, he could guess that Sam had heard it a lot.

Young Sam was physically trembling in his arms now, whimpering.

That's when John actually appeared, larger than life and completely enraged. He looked ready to tear something to pieces, an expression that Dean had only seen very rarely while they were hunting.

Sammy was sobbing, grabbing Dean almost painfully tight, shaking violently.

That's when it hit him that it was _Sam_ this John was going to pound.

Righteous fury temporarily took the place of concern and anguish, and before he really knew what he was doing, Dean strode forward, standing toe to toe with their father.

Holding Sammy tight, he swung hard, putting all of his strength behind it.

John fell hard, disappearing the second he hit the ground

Fury faded, concern taking its place once more.

"Deep breath, Sammy. It's over. You're okay."

_The kid was born to be an actor. If he was this scared of dad every time they had an argument, fake or not...dang kiddo. _

Threat gone, Dean continued walking forward towards a dim light in the distance that he hoped was the door.

It took Dean a few minutes to realize the room was narrowing. Confused, but deciding to go with it, Dean kept going.

_What the heck?_

Sammy was hyperventilating.

_Oh no._

Dean pulled Sam even tighter against him, but pulled back just enough that he could gently make Sam look him in the face.

"You're claustrophobic, aren't you, Sam?"

It made total sense now, looking back on memories of particular hunts. Sam had always managed to get out of going in any small spaces. It was amazing how manipulative the kid could be when he really wanted to get out of something badly enough to do almost anything.

Young Sam nodded in response to his question, burying his face even deeper in Dean's neck.

Dean forced himself to continue onward, speaking soothingly to Sam as he did so.

He was almost on his knees by the time room finally started to grow again.

_But the door's still a bit off. What else is Sam afraid of?_

That's when _he_ popped up.

_No. No, please. _

_Sammy, please don't be afraid of me._

**_No._**

"Dang it, Sam, you're so _stupid _sometimes! I swear, you can't do anything right! I don't know why dad and I even put up with your worthless butt. You know what, fine. Fine! You just stay here. Dad and I are taking off. We don't need you anyway."

Young Sam whimpered in his arms.

"I'm so freaking tired of taking care of you all the time! I guess dad was right all these years, Sam. It is your fault that mom died. I'm gone Sam. I'm done."

_Sam is afraid of rejection. Not just any rejection...__**my**__ rejection._

Hoping he was right, Dean pushed roughly passed his evil twin and headed back towards the door.

Laying a hand on the knob, he paused.

"You don't think I'd really say those things, do you?"

Young Sam hesitated.

"I've always been afraid you would leave me, give up on me, or...or hate me because mom died in my nursery." he finally managed. "You...you worship dad and...dad hates me. Dad blames me. I knew someday the truth would come out, that someday I'd lose you."

Sam sounded so much older than his youthful age of six at that moment.

Hating what John had purposefully done, and what he had unintentionally done, to Sam, Dean ripped the door open and stepped through it, closing it firmly behind him.

"I'm not on his side, Sam. I'm on yours. I'll _always_ be on yours."


	10. Chapter 10

Hey guys! Here's the next chapter. Thanks for the reviews and I'm glad people have been enjoying this. :)

I hope this isn't getting too repetitive or anything. We're nearing the end of our journey here. Few more chapters to go. :)

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><p>Sam wriggled out of Dean's arms, motioning down the new hallway before them. "We want to go that way."<p>

Dean turned and began to walk down the hallway, thoughts on his baby brother.

_This is a much bigger job than I thought. I guess that fortune teller really knew what she was talking about. _

It killed Dean that the fortune teller had been trying to tell him about his dad all those years ago and he hadn't listened.

_If only she had told me. If I only Sam had told me... I should have been paying attention._

Dean looked up in surprise as his guide suddenly stopped. His eyes widened at the sight before him.

The hallway had enlarged, shifted, and they were standing in a motel room. There were two Sam's here, one strong and healthy, the other sickly. It worried Dean just how sick the other looked. He was leaning against one of the motel beds, sitting on the floor, pale as death, clearly unable to stand.

"Who are these guys?" Dean asked young Sam, who was watching the two with sorrow and slight fear in his eyes.

"Optimism and cynicism. Cynicism used to be so weak, but over the years he has become the powerful one. Optimism is dying. We've tried to save him, but...there's only so much we can do."

_Oh no. _

The implication was clear to his brother.

_Sam doesn't have much hope left. The kid is dying, but in a way I never expected. _

_I'm gonna fix this, Sam. I promise._

That's when he realized the two Sam's, both about 15, were arguing.

"D-Dean's coming. E-everything will be o-okay. W-we c-can't g-give up." The sick Sam looked horrible, his voice weak, though his belief in his words was clear with every syllable.

The healthy Sam rolled his eyes. "Why don't you just give up and die already? There's nothing left to hope for. Dad hates us, Dean thinks we're worthless, we hate _ourselves_. We're horrible hunters, we're bad students. We have no friends. What's the point? We've never done anything right. It's time to give in." Healthy Sam paused, looking at sick Sam pointedly. "Maybe you should just end it, huh? Let's just get it over with. I'm sick of this! There's no point!"

The sick Sam hesitated this time, tears beginning to stream down his face. "Maybe..."

Young Sam tensed beside him.

Dean couldn't stand by any longer.

"Oh no you don't."

Dean strode forward, pushing the healthy Sam down onto one of the motel beds.

"You sit there, and shut up." the order was clear, healthy Sam glaring the whole time.

The older brother then knelt next to his ailing sibling, gently grabbing his shoulders, looking him in the eyes.

"I don't think you're worthless and I don't hate you. Don't give up. You hear me? You keep fighting. I'mg oing to make everything better, but you have to give me some time. Okay? Don't you dare give up."

Sam looked at him a moment, then nodded. "Okay."

Dean gazed at him a moment, then stood, satisified by the truth in his eyes.

A bit of color seemed to return to the sick Sam's cheek and he pushed himself to his feet with a groan, sitting down hard on the bed.

"I believe in you, big brother. Please save me. I know you will. I want you to go throught his door." he gestured towards the motel room door. "It will take you where you need to go."

Dean nodded, squeezing his brother's shoulder reassuringly, then turned to his young guide, six year old Sam, and followed him to the door.

Sam looked happier now. "This is the last room we need to go through before we find the final door. This contains my, um, my favorite things." the child blushed slightly. "It's, it's not all bad in here, you know. Things are just bad now. The other Sam was right. You can fix this. He's not the only one that believes it."

Dean smiled at his baby brother, reassured by the thought that there was something of the happy child he had known before left to save.

Opening the door, Dean moved forward, waiting till his guide was inside before closing the door behind them.

Immediately, he was hit by the smell of old books. The room was lit up like a sunset, a beautiful view of the ocean flashing before them, the sound of the waves lapping on the shore the most soothing thing Dean had heard in a long time.

The smell of old books was replaced by leather and gun oil, mixed with an aftershave that Dean was startled to recognize as his own.

Then two familiar laughs broke out and Dean smiled as he saw him and Sam, sitting in the Impala, laughing at some stupid joke Dean had told. Similiar scenes flashed before Dean's vision again and again.

_His childhood wasn't all bad. _

Dean was surprised to feel his heavy guilt ease just a tad.

_I haven't completed failed him. He has good memories too. _

Six year old Sam met his gaze with a flash of dimpled smile, gently urging them both forward through the next door.

One last hallway stretched before them, empty of doors except for one at the very end.

It was black and ominous looking and Dean immediately hated it.

_Whatever's in there isn't good._

It was a knowledge, something that he knew without fully being able to explain why.

"This is where you need to be." His guide said softly, looking intimidated at the sight of the door. "This is the Sam you need to free. He is trapped among his own self-doubt and guilt. The witch forced him in here. He's going to think you're a hallucination, Dean. Please don't give up. Free him. We're so close."

The child sounded so desperate.

Dean knelt down in front of him, pulling him into a tight, but gentle hug.

"I'm going to make all of this right, Sammy. And even when we both wake up, I'm still going to be working at it. I'm _never_ going to give up on you. _Never_. You mean the world to me, Sam. You remember that and spread the word. Okay?"

The flash of relieved tears and loving smile he received was worth the chick flick moment.

"Okay."

With a last nod, his guide disappeared.

Standing, Dean grabbed the door knob.

Deep breath.

_I can do this._


	11. Chapter 11

Thank you guys so much for the reviews! You all rock! Here's the next chapter. :)

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><p>The room was dark, except for a single light shining down the middle.<p>

Sam sat there, looking normal and more _himself_ than any other version Dean had seen so far.

He already had a bad feeling about this room. It was cold and Sam's posture, knees up to his chest, arms wrapped around them, face buried in his arms, shoulders shaking as he cried, didn't exactly reassure him.

Dean began to move forward, then froze as Sam's voice, deeper and harsher than Dean had ever heard it, echoed through the room, though the Sam he could see wasn't talking.

_"Your fault. This is your fault, Sam. It's **all** your fault. Your weakness destroyed this family, destroyed you, destroyed Dean, killed your mother, ruined your father. You! All those people who have died because __**you**__ were weak! Every time your father hit you he was getting revenge on those you murdered, those whose deaths are on **your** hands. Can you see the blood? It's on **your** hands, Sam, and you'll never wash it off. You've caused so much suffering. YOU SAM!"_

The Sam in the middle of the room folded in on himself, grabbing his head with his hands, beginning to scream, "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!"

Dean immediately moved forward. "That's enough! Leave him alone!"

The voice faded away, the room silent save for Sam's soft sobs.

The older brother dropped to his knees in front of Sam.

"Sammy?"

"It _is_ my fault you know."

"What is?"

"Everything. I'm weak. I was never enough, I will never be enough."

Dean's eyes were wide, shocked into silence.

"I understand why you and dad don't keep in touch with me. I wouldn't keep in touch with the man who killed my mother and ruined my life either."

"Sam-"

"I'm so lonely." Tears slid down his face. "But I deserve to be alone."

"Sammy-"

"Pathetic, whiny, needy…..no wonder you and dad got so sick of me. I never contributed. Couldn't hunt. So worthless. I got you both hurt so many times. Every time you got hurt, it was my fault. My fault, always my fault."

"Sam, please-"

"I'm so sorry. So sorry." Sam was rocking back and forth now, a horrible picture of misery.

Finally, Dean grabbed Sam by the shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Sammy, you have to listen to me. None of that was your fault. You aren't weak, you're strong. You were strong enough to leave, strong enough to live here on your own, strong enough to keep me and dad alive for years. You don't _deserve_ to be alone, Sammy, and mom's death wasn't your fault. The hunts that went wrong weren't your fault either."

Sam was finally looking at him, but he didn't seem convinced.

"You're not real. You're only saying that 'cause you're _my_ hallucination. I've been trapped in this room for so long, it feels like weeks or months, I must have finally lost it. I should just consider myself lucky that my hallucination is on my side."

"No, Sam. No, I'm real. I'm here. I'm going to get you out of here."

Sam stared at him, brows furrowed, looking completely overwhelmed.

Dean, heart aching from his baby brother's pain, finally pulled him into a fierce, tight hug.

It took a second, but Sam slowly wrapped his arms around Dean in return, the tentative embrace becoming fierce and powerful moments later.

"Dean."

Slowly the darkness around them began to brighten, the cold fading into warmth.

Dean looked up, jaw dropping as he realized the doors and hallways were gone. They were sitting on the ground next to the Impala, in some random clearing next to an unfamiliar forest.

"The Impala?" he asked Sam.

Sam didn't pull away, but responded softly. "With you here, it's home, Dean."

It relieved Dean more than he could ever express that Sam's "home" was _him_ and the Impala.

"You're not alone, Sammy. I'm here and I'm _never_ gong to leave you alone."

Sam clutched him tighter.

Slowly, things began to fade away around them, blackness overtaking both of them.

This time, both brothers fell.


	12. Chapter 12

Well here we are guys. Finally reached the end of the story. I hope you've all enjoyed it and thank you for everyone who's been reviewing.

I don't know what I'm writing next, it will probably depend on my mood when I next have time to write (tonight or tomorrow hopefully). Like I said before, I'm working on an unrelated story, a story about a Djinn, a Mary lives story, and possible sequels, and a deal breaking story that I'm actually pretty excited about. I suppose we'll see what happens. If anyone has a preference, mention it in a review and your desires will definitely be considered. :)

And, yeah, the ending is kinda random, but I had no idea how to give everything closure. Hopefully, people like it. :)

...

Dean opened his eyes, sitting up suddenly, his initial confusion fading in the wake of pure panic. The fortune teller was the first person he saw.

"Sam?" his voice was desperate, but he didn't care.

She smiled. "Waking up right now. He's okay, Dean. You did well."

Dean turned frantically to his little brother, forcing himself to stop and slow down as he caught sight of his brother's face as he sat up.

Clearly, Sam remembered what had happened. Shame, fear, pain all showed clearly on his face. His baby brother couldn't look him in the eyes, his form shaking, hands trembling as he raised them to cover his face.

"Sammy?"

Sam flinched as if he'd been struck, and wasn't _that_ just enough to make Dean want to curl up in a ball and cry?

Dean slowly stood up, moving forward cautiously, as if dealing with a spooked animal.

"Sam, I'm not gonna hurt you, kiddo. It's _me_, I'm not gonna hurt you."

Dean sat down on the bed beside Sam, trying to ignore the way Sam curled into himself a little, as if silently begging not to be hit.

_I wonder how many times he tried that with dad._

Fiery anger sprung up then, but Dean shoved it away.

_Later. He'll pay later. Right now is Sam._

Dean gently wrapped his arms around Sam, pulling him gently but firmly into his arms. Sam was tense for a moment, but began to relax as Dean simply held him and nothing happened.

"What I said before still stands, Sammy. I'm on your side, _always_. I'm never giving up on you. You mean the world to me, Sammy, and if I had known what dad was doing I would have put a stop to it. I promise."

Sam was quiet a minute. "You mean it?"

Dean tightened his grip. "Yes. I promise you, Sam, and you know I never break my promises."

Finally, Sam relaxed against his brother, gripping his shirt, tears beginning to fall.

"It's okay, Sammy." Dean gently rubbed his brother's back. "It's okay. It's over."

...

Dean reluctantly stood. "Come on, Sammy. Let's head to a motel. You can get some rest there."

Sam started to stand, but nearly crumpled. He would have, if Dean hadn't grabbed him in alarm.

"Sammy? Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Sam grimaced, clutching his brother for support as Dean held him up.

"She, um, she tortured me for hours, Dean. White hot pain...b-before she finally said you were here and cast the spell."

Dean closed his eyes, silently wishing he would be the one to kill that stupid witch for everything she had done to his baby brother.

Yet...part of him couldn't regret it. He never would have found out the truth otherwise.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy."

Sam offered him a small smile. "Not your fault, Dean." Giving his brother a grateful look, he changed the subject. "Come on, I'm tired. Let's get."

Dean glanced at the fortune teller, still watching them, smiling. "Thank you."

He didn't say it often, but when he did, he meant it.

Her smile softened. "You are more than welcome, Dean. You boys need someone on your side. Besides, you'll repay the favor someday."

Dean's brows furrowed, a question on his lips, but she just laughed, waving them out. "You'll find out. Most of the future is meant to never be revealed. This is one thing you will just have to find out in time."

Finally, Dean shrugged and ushered his brother out the door.

_Not as creepy as I thought the first time I met her, but still creepy._

...

"Hello?" Dean flipped his phone open without looking at it, distracted by his brother, who he was currently watching sleep. Just in case...

"Dean."

Dean straightened. It was their father.

"Witch is dead." Almost as an afterthought, John added, "Sam?"

"Sam's fine. I fixed it last night."

"Good. I'll- Hey. There's the Impala. I'll be in in a second."

Dean's eyes widened. _Crap! How the heck did he find us? Sam. What am I going to do? The kid doesn't need to see that #$%#$ again. _

Dean gently grabbed his brother's arm, immediately wrenching him from sleep. "Sammy, dad found us."

The fear in Sam's eyes was unmistakable. Dean could see it now that he was looking for it and he could have kicked himself (_again_), but stopped himself, knowing this wasn't the time.

"I'm not gonna let anything happen to you."

A knock at the door.

Sam's face was ghost white.

"It'll be okay, Sammy."

Sam nodded and Dean knew they were as ready as they could be.

...

As he opened the door, Dean told himself over and over to keep his cool. He didn't to upset Sam, no matter how badly he wanted to kill the man who had made his brother suffer so badly.

All the horror he had seen would be for him and Sam to share, through nightmares, for the rest of their lives. The intense emotions of hate and fear that Sam dealt with on a daily basis at home and in his own head just killed Dean.

Before he really knew what he was doing, Dean's fist was swinging, smashing into John's jaw with great force, knocking him back against the wall.

"What the heck are you doing, Dean?" John growled.

It all came spilling out, Dean's fury screamed for the room to hear. "How _could you?_ You...you _hypocrite!_ How many times did you tell me to watch out for Sam, then turn right around and hit him? All those years of fighting, all those years we could have been a happy family, you destroyed it! How many times did you send me out on an errand, or let me go on a date or to a party, send me on a hunt, and spend the whole time I was gone tearing into Sam? Your _baby_, my_ little brother_, the child I _swore _to protect, who you were _supposed_ to protect!"

John's eyes were wide for just a second, before they narrowed. "You watch your mouth, boy."

Dean's tone dropped into a fierce, but soft snarl, something reserved usually for the things he hunted.

"You gonna _hit me_, John? Come on, I dare you. Show how much of a coward you truly are."

"Samuel didn't get anything from me that he didn't deserve."

Dean spun around, stalking over to the far wall, trying one last time to get his temper under control.

_Don't kill him. Don't kill him._

...

The second Dean's back was turned, John grabbed a fistful of a wide-eyed Sam's shirt, pulling him in close.

_No. No, please, not again. _

"You _told _him?" His voice soft and dangerous.

Sam felt himself start to shake, doggedly swinging his head back and forth, years of panic and fear quickly brought back to the surface at the familiar situation.

A second later, Dean was there.

He pushed John away violently, his own fury exploding at the sudden and obvious fear in his baby brother's eyes. He had his father pinned against the wall a moment later, a knife pressed to his throat.

It took Sam a second to realize that Dean was really going to kill their father.

The younger brother was overwhelmed by a feeling of safety and love, then a second later by fear. He knew he couldn't let his brother do this.

He was moving before he had really decided what to do, pulling his brother back away from their father, wrapping his arms around his chest firmly.

Dean struggled, even as John backed slowly towards the door, surprised at the sudden change.

"Let me go, Sam. I'm gonna kill him. I _swear_ I'm gonna kill him."

"I can't let you do that, Dean. I won't let you do something you'd regret."

"I won't regret it. Never. That #$%$ hurt you and nothing that hurts you lives. Nothing." Dean snarled, jerking against Sam's hold.

"Yes, you will, Dean. Someday, you will. You're angry now, but you will regret it when your calm."

"Let me go, Sammy."

"You aren't like him, Dean. You aren't! I won't let you become him either. Let it go."

Dean stopped then, breathing hard. Finally, he threw John one last hard look. "Guess he's not hte monster you thought he was, huh? He's the only reason you aren't dead right now. Leave before I change my mind."

The door was closed a second later, their father gone.

Silence reigned as both boys thought about the implications of what had just happened.

Finally, Dean glanced down at the arms that were still wrapped around his chest and decided the mood needed to be lightened.

"You know, if you wanted to hold me, Sammy, you could have just asked."

Dean heard a familiar huff behind him as Sam released him.

"You big girl." Dean added as he turned around to throw a grin up at Sam.

Sam returned the grin, despite the fight to keep it off his face.

"Jerk."

"#$%^."

_Things aren't perfect, but they'll be okay. We'll be okay. _

...

The next few months were some of the hardest and best of the boy's lives.

Sam returned to Stanford, resuming his studies.

Dean became his new roommate, both of them pitching in to get a small but nice apartment that they could share. Dean took hunts in California, never staying gone for long or taking hunts that could possibly take him away from his brother.

Needless to say, after such an emotionally charged change in their lives, Dean had begun to realize how much his baby brother needed him and he refused to let something happen that would hurt the center of his world.

Sam was happier than he'd ever been. Dean told him every day, even when he was gone on a hunt, in his own little ways, that he cared for him. His older brother was determined to show him the truth and Sam felt better about himself than he ever heard.

Dean's little brother radar was working overtime. It almost freaked Sam out how often Dean called when he was feeling depressed or guilty or hurt, ready with a joke or kind word to reassure him.

Eventually, Sam began to believe it too: _We're going to be okay._

_The Winchester brothers are back and stronger than ever._

_Nothing, not even their own minds, could defeat the combined efforts of the two._

...

Dean lounged on the couch, reveling in the cool air of their apartment.

"Hey, Sammy! Food! I want food, #$%^!"

Sam came out of his room, rolling his eyes.

"Then get some food you lazy bum."

Dean opened his eyes, gazing at his baby brother in amusement and false outrage.

"Lazy bum? I'm the money maker in this house, I don't think I'm the lazy one."

"Money maker? You hustle pool."

"Your point is?"

"Wow."

"I know. I'm amazing."

"Yep. That's you do. Simply amazing." Sam's voice dripped sarcasm, but both of them picked up on the truth in the words, the real belief Sam had.

_Yeah. Yeah, Dean, you are amazing. Not like I'd ever tell you that. You've got a big enough head as it is._

Dean offered his brother a real smile, lounging back on the couch.

"Life is good, baby brother."

"That it is."

"It'd be better if you'd get me food."

Sam huffed in amusement. "Fine. I'll make something." he finally gave in.

"You rock, Sammy."

"I know."

"Modest too."

"I know that too."

Dean shook his head.

_I taught that kid well. We'll give him a big head yet. _

_...but not too big._


End file.
